Dear Lucy,
Scattered around me are remnants of you: A sparkly Tinker Bell hairbrush. Pink Dora slippers. Your Disney Princess place mat that you demand to eat on every. single. meal. Teeny cherished Little People and hair clips you stuffed into the remote holder to hide from your sister. Your art folder and sticker collection which you splay across the kitchen table multiple times a day.
This morning, like every morning, you asked if it was a Daycare Day or a Mummy Lucy House Day (you always conveniently leave out Alice and Spencer until prompted). When I told you it was a Monday and indeed your day away from home, you replied with predictability: “But I want to stay home with YOU” and jabbed me in the chest with your finger before collapsing on my lap and burrowing into your Snuggle Spot under my chin.
Oh, my Baby Goose. The love and affection radiates from you like I never imagined. You are truly my girl, and I love every single moment of your world revolving around me, because I know that’s going to change before I know it. Every day we play a game: “Mumma, I love you bigger than an elephant.” Or, “I love you bigger than a mountain.” Or, “I love you bigger than the sky. And the sky is very big, Mumma,” you say, holding your arms out wide and cocking an eyebrow at me like a professor — teaching me a fact, you see.
This year you have met huge milestones: You go the bathroom by yourself. You are fully potty trained and no longer sleep in a pull-up. You can write your name. You climb things. You talk on the phone. You initiate conversation. You can turn the television on and off, type on the computer and turn on lights.
While large indoor structures still make you nervous, you are no longer afraid of going on the playground or slide by yourself. I’m sure that the confidence you’ve built at daycare has a lot to do with this. You also say hello to everyone you meet.
I often spy on you as you’re playing in your room. You make up stories with your “guys” (stuffed animals) and Barbies, and twirl around the room with Cold Blankie. For your birthday you received a Tag Reader, and will spend hours — literally! — going through your books.
Every day we craft. If we’re busy or forget, you will suddenly remember with a panicked face at dinner that we did not create something together. I love your artsy side, and encourage it as often as I can. Not too long ago you drew your first family portrait, and I actually cried I was so very proud of you. It will never come down from our fridge.
You’ll call yourself Little Mommy and help me around the house: Wiping Alice’s nose, stealing baby wipes and “cleaning” the floor and television, feeding Spencer Dog. You talk about being a grown up all the time, and all the things you’ll do: Eat pickles. Get your nose “pinned” like me. Drive a van. Sleep in our bed. Be an animal doctor. Have two babies — a girl named Alex, and a boy named Rocket.
While shoveling the driveway last week you told me next year you’ll be five. Honey, Mumma would like to get used to four first, please, mmkay?
“Lucy. How many times do I have to tell you to stop growing?”
“Iiiiii won’t! I’m going to be a grown up, and you can’t stop me!”
It’s a game was play involving cradling you like a baby, but it’s oh-so true. And really hit home when I registered you for junior kindergarten.
You are a thoughtful and kind big sister. You like to teach Alice things like how to blow your nose, hop or colour. You love to chase her and make her giggle — and there is no bigger reward for this hard parenting gig than hearing that. Nothing. I think Alice’s early crawling and walking was just so she could keep up with you, her idol. You have handled the transition into sisterhood very well. Alice can feel your wrath if she’s playing with a favourite toy or is sitting with one of us and you want to, too, but other than the occasional, “I don’t want to get Alice up!” when she wakes from her nap, you are great with her (and LOVE matching!).
Favourite foods include grilled cheese sandwiches (your request for dinner each night), cheese and crackers, tuna noodle casserole, spaghetti and meatballs, and any candy and chocolate. You are a super eater, although it can take you a while to finish dinner (the solution? Putting the timer on or threatening no dessert!).
You are tall for your age, and easily fit size 5 clothes and weigh close to 45 lbs.
I am often confused by your relationship with your Daddy. All day long when you’re home with me, you will ask when he’ll be back from work. But so often you only want me, or say, “I don’t LIKE Daddy.” Are you punishing him for some reason because you see me more? It’s perplexing and can be hurtful for all of us. But when times are good with the two of you? I might as well not exist. He is your favourite playmate and wrestler — roles I could never fill.
But just as you can light up the room with your laughter, equally can you tilt the world’s axis with your anger. To see your temper tantrum is enough to cause terror in the heart’s of every pregnant woman. “They” don’t talk about this when you’re having a baby. Last week you absolutely refused to get dressed, and punctuated the sentiment with a red-faced, tear-streaked, “No MUMMA!” that I’m positive set our van’s alarm off. I had to drag you, kicking and screaming, to the stairs for a time out (for both of us).
You did something similar to your Nana over the weekend, and she actually had to call me to ask what to do. I have to admit a small part of me was pleased when this happened, and I snickered when I hung up the phone after listening to your wailing sobs of not wanting to go pee. Your Nana has always prized herself on “not letting Lucy get away with things,” and it was comforting to see you testing boundaries with other people, to let someone else see what four can be like (and give true vision to why I’ve been threatening to leave you at the end of the driveway for the past four years).
I know it’s frustrating, this in between time when you so seek independence, but are still so young. I remind myself of this every day.
I wasn’t told mood swings, drama and defiance could start so early. We are so similarly stubborn, Lucy, that god help all of us when you turn 13. Your Daddy already has plans to permanently move into the basement and just let us women fend against ourselves like feral kitties.
But I could never appreciate all the sweet in you without some salty tears. So we work together and test each other out, and at the end of each day I walk around the house and pick up the scattered remnants of you with a heart heavy with responsibility and love. To give you space to grow, and the shelter, comfort and encouragement to do so.
I love you, my Goose, my first baby, bigger than anything in the world. Happy 4th birthday.
Love,
Mumma
